


We Remain

by Katrinathe1st



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers 4, Avengers Endgame, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Sad Tony, Tony Needs a Hug, based on THAT scene from the TV spot, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 08:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18339920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katrinathe1st/pseuds/Katrinathe1st
Summary: He looked to the end table beside him, his gaze fixed on the picture that rested there. He stood and bent to pick it up, holding the cheap dollar store frame in careful hands. It was a picture of him and Peter, on the day when he’d given Peter the official Stark Internship.Aka, Tony goes to apologize Aunt May for failing to protect her nephew, and a picture gives him a painful reminder of what they're both missing.





	We Remain

**Author's Note:**

> How is it possible for a 1 minute long tv spot make me more emotional than the official trailer? Like ugh. My Mom watched it and said “Yep, he’s (Tony) gonna die.” so… now I’m a stressed wreck because I’ve told myself for so long he’s not gonna die, and now I’m doubting myself. :’(
> 
> But anyhow, here’s a fic based on that scene that all us Irondad stans are screaming about.

Tony wasn’t sure how long he stood in front of that apartment door. It felt like the span of hours, but surely it couldn’t have been any more than a handful of minutes. It was enough time for him to ponder if he had the strength to do this.

Yet, the guilt outweighed the pain. This was his fault, this was his mess to deal with. 

So, before he could change his mind, he inhaled deeply and rapped his fist against the door. His heart beat wildly, and he half-hoped she wasn’t home.

She was. He could hear the sound of footsteps approaching, then the sound of the locks clicking in the door. It swung open to reveal a tired looking Aunt May, her glasses crooked on the end of her nose and her hair in disarray. She wore baggy sweat pants and a MIT sweatshirt. Tony couldn’t help but stare at it. It was Peter’s sweater.

She looked sad when she said, “Mr. Stark. I wondered when you’d come.” She opened the door wider, a silent invite. 

He slowly entered the room, his throat tight. He couldn’t speak, for he feared if he did, he’d spill things he didn’t wish to. He swallowed thickly, trying to pull himself together. 

Some hero.

She motioned for him to follow her into the living room, which was a mere few steps away. As he squeezed between the kitchen counter and the wall (decorated with many pictures of Peter, Ben, and the three of them as a family. He tried not to look.) he was reminded of how small the humble apartment was. It had been so long… he’d forgotten.

“May.” He started, slowly sitting in the couch beside her. She adjusted her glasses, her gaze fixed on the blank tv rather than him. “May, I…” His voice trailed off hollowly. What could he say? Nothing he did could make this right. Nothing he could do could make up for what they both lost.

“I know.” She said. Her voice was empty, almost devoid of emotions. He looked at her face closely, noticing the heavy bags under her eyes, and how thin and wallow she appeared under the baggy clothes. She crossed her arms, and the way her hands rubbed against the sweater did not go unnoticed. “I know he’s gone, so don’t say it.” 

He felt terrible for not saying it, partly because he wasn’t sure he could- at least, not to her. She was stronger than he. Shame curled in his gut, but he did nothing to appease it. Instead, he just looked away, not really focusing on anything but the heavy silence that filled the tiny room.

Silence. He couldn’t stand it. He hated it.

His lab, which he’d just given Peter access to a few weeks before the entire disaster, was now a silent reminder of what wasn’t there. He hated that, too. The compound, still littered with little reminders- like the report card taped to the fridge, or the canvas sneakers in the closet- all things he wished could disappear, yet loved. With things as they were, he could almost pretend nothing had changed.

He licked his lips, his hands folding and unfolding in his lap. He didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m sorry, May.” He whispered. “I’m so sorry.” She didn’t say anything, but he heard her breath hitch. “I… I know it’s my fault.”

“Tony-” 

“He was right there. Right in front of me. And I did nothing.” Tony hissed angrily, but it wasn’t for her, or Peter. The anger was purely self-loathing. “He begged me to do something. I lied- I said he was okay. You want to know what he said to me? He said I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just-” He choked on his own words, and he squeezed his hands together in frustration. “I didn’t even say goodbye or- anything. I just watched. Because I’d failed him again, and he- he said sorry. Sorry for dying.” His face was wet, but he refused to wipe them away. He was so pathetically weak. Some mentor he made. 

“You couldn’t have done anything.” She said kindly. He shook, trying to keep himself in check. He wanted to scream and shout that he should’ve done something. He should’ve fixed it somehow, like he always did. But he didn’t. He just pressed his lips together and willed himself not to cry. 

She was so understanding. He’d expected shouting, maybe a slap or a punch or… something. But rather, she set her small hand on his shoulder, a simple act of solace. 

His back shook with a tired sigh. He wanted this to end. The question rose again: Why hadn’t it been him? 

“Because, if you weren’t here, there’d be no one to get them back.” May said, before she stood and moved to the kitchen. 

Had he said his thoughts out loud? Crap, he needed to be more careful.

“I’m sorry, May.” He said again. 

She only replied with, “Do you want creamer in your coffee?” 

He said no, before looking back down at his clasped hands. He sat like that for a minute, before lifting a hand to rub his eyes. He looked to the end table beside him, his gaze fixed on the picture that rested there. He stood and bent to pick it up, holding the cheap dollar store frame in careful hands. It was a picture of him and Peter, on the day when he’d given Peter the official Stark Internship. The kids at school had continued to question it, and as a way to put the inquiries to rest, Tony had made it official. 

They were doing bunny ears. He almost smiled, remembering that day all too vividly. Peter had been so excited to get the certificate. The entire time he’d been there he hadn’t gotten a silent moment, with Peter chattering on about how grateful he was. “Mr. Stark, you don’t know how much this means to me. Like, this is great, just wait until Flash sees and- thanks again, Mr. Stark. Does this mean I get a compound pass? One that doesn’t say “Child-lock unlocked” on it? I mean, I am basically an official member of Stark Industries so…” 

Aunt May returned with two mugs in her hands. Tony carefully set the frame back on the table, his anger gone, replaced with regret.


End file.
